Kindled Hearts
by Pecan Tweet
Summary: In the midst of the team struggling to catch a killer with unclear motives, Flack finds his efforts to move on challenged as thoughts of Angell push him in a direction he never expected. Flack/OC along with Mac/Stella, DL, Hawkes, Jo, Adam and Sid.
1. Prologue

**kin·dle**

Spelled [**kin**-dl]

_**verb (used with object)**_

**1. **To start (a fire); cause (a flame, blaze, etc.) to begin burning.

**2. **To excite; stir up or set going; animate; rouse; inflame: _He kindled their hopes of victory._

**3. **To light up, illuminate, or make bright: _Happiness kindled her eyes._

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><p>Kindled Hearts<p>

**Prologue**

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><p>The last time he'd been there, he was with Jess.<p>

It had been St. Patrick's Day and she had insisted that they go grab an early dinner. His resistance surprised her, with him being Irish and all.

"_You really don't want to go? I figured this would be your favorite holiday."_

Her sarcasm was apparent and it made him laugh. She knew he hated any holiday that was followed with the delirious antics of those who had drank one too many. New Year's Eve, St. Patrick's Day, and Halloween were just a few among the many days of the year that he never looked forward to, along with Mondays. He hated Mondays.

He had been on call and with the chance of having to go in being very high he went ahead to the precinct that afternoon. His goal was to try to at least put a dent into the ever-growing amount of paperwork on his desk.

Jess' shift had just ended when she approached his desk, the small smirk already outlined on her face. He wanted to deny her offer, or at least come up with a different plan but he was no match for her.

"_Come on Don, it's still early. The drunks and crazies aren't partying yet."_

"_You know I don't like this right?"_

"_But you like me."_

Checkmate.

It wasn't a question. He didn't care. That was why he liked her. She always had a way of getting him to do what she wanted.

He looked at her with a smile.

"_Let's go."_

"Earth to Don."

The voice pulled him out of his reverie, the memory of Jess fading away.

He looked up, his gaze meeting another, the olive green eyes streaming with concern. The sounds of the restaurant came flooding back in. Voices ringing, chairs sliding, and the distinctive sound of metal scraping against porcelain all hung in the air. The noise prevented him from going back into the memory. He wished he could, though it was a damn shame.

"Are you hearing me Don?"

"Yeah, sorry. Just zoned out for a bit." He figured a reply along the lines of '_I was just thinking about my dead girlfriend,' _wouldn't have been appropriate.

He was supposed to be on a date.

Natalie Dunn was an A.D.A with the Manhattan's District Attorney Office. She started a few months ago and was already making a good impression on everyone. A week ago, she had just finished one of the biggest cases of career. Kevin Maywood had been convicted of killing a student at the prep school where he taught math. However, there wasn't enough evidence to convict him. It all came down to the testimony of their key witness, another young student.

The story went big, people everywhere outraged and angry. Natalie was in charge ensuring that not only the witness would testify, but said testimony would be strong enough for a conviction.

Her task was deemed successful and Maywood was convicted. Earlier that day, he was sentenced to 60 years in prison. Flack was outside when the sentencing was over. He had seen Natalie's proud grin when she came out of the courtroom.

"_I take it you got some good news." He approached her, his own smile forming. _

"_60 years. Doesn't get much better than that," she boasted proudly. _

"_Congrats. You're gonna become to the top A.D.A soon," he told her. _

"_Thanks," she replied letting out a breath. _

"_You okay?"_

"_Yeah, just happy it's over," she paused. "You want to go grab a drink, maybe dinner?"_

The question was both surprising and expected, a clear oxymoron.

He had been asked more than once about the relationship he had with Natalie. Having been the lead detective on the case, the two had grown close. Danny teased. Lindsay could only smile proudly. Hawkes would give compliment to her personality. Even Jo would hint at the psychological connection the two supposedly had.

But there was something missing.

He liked her, he was sure of it. With pale skin and shoulder length brown hair, Natalie was indisputably attractive. She was smart, witty, and could definitely hold her own. She loved her job and did it well.

_Just like Jess._

He cursed himself for again allowing his thoughts to drift.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

Natalie's voice again brought him back to reality.

He leaned back in his chair, nodding to the waiter as he refilled his water.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Tired I guess"

She nodded in understanding. "Story of my life."

Flack chuckled. "I guess we're on the same page."

"I guess so." She watched him carefully, her eyes locked on his. A small smirk appeared on her face and he couldn't help the smile forming on his own.

"Listen Don, I was thinking that maybe you and I could…."

She never finished her sentence.

_CRACK CRACK CRACK_

The familiar sound pierced through the air, leaving an echo in the atmosphere. The gunshot was followed by the crash of glass and the screams of all in the wake of the chaos.

"Don!"

He was already out of his seat.

Flack ducked passed the people hunched over with their hands covering their heads as he made his way towards the door.

"Get down!" he shouted, prepared for more gunshots.

He swung the door open and was met with more chaos outside, people screaming, cars honking. Looking around, his gun was in hand and ready to fire. His eyes darted up and down the street just into to see a red pickup truck speed off, making a right at the block ahead.

With his hand already moving towards his pocket, Flack pulled out his phone, calling in the shooting.

"This is Detective Flack, I got a drive by shooting and a runaway red pick-up truck heading west on 38th!" he barked, repeating the information again, his eyes drifting to a woman standing close to the door of the restaurant.

He noticed the specks of red sprayed all over her shirt.

"Are you okay?" he asked, moving to stand in front of her.

Her red hair was long, as were the bangs that hung over her eyes. Slowing she looked up, her gaze not meeting Flack's but instead the light hazel orbs focusing on the street behind him.

"Are you okay?" he asked again, slower this time. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

At the contact, her eyes met his, yet she remained silent.

"Flack!"

Natalie's voice reached his ears, yet he held the gaze of the woman a moment longer before turning his head.

When he did, he saw Natalie leaning over a woman lying on the ground, blood pooling around her shoulder.

He looked at Natalie's expression, panic resting in her features.

"She's dead."

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><p><em>Disclaimer: All the things you recognize don't belong to me. <em>

_A.N. – Here it is, my first story. Thoughts about it are more than welcome! I would really appreciate to hear from everyone! Thanks a lot!_

_**~ Pecan Tweet**_


	2. Word of the Day

Kindled Hearts

Chapter One**/ Word of the Day**

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><p>Irony is a funny thing.<p>

Something happens, good or bad, then that happening leads to the occurrence of something else. The second thing however doesn't happen as expected. In fact, it's the exact opposite.

Ironic.

You buy your 5 year old a puppy. They run out of the room screaming they wanted a cat. You propose to your girlfriend of 3 years in front the Eiffel Tower. She tells you she's been seeing your brother. You exercise and eat organic for six months. You gain five pounds.

Or you're at a crime scene surrounded by sirens and moving bodies. People shuffle all around you. Officers chatter, the radios on their hip competing to take place in the conversation. Car doors open and close as uniforms arrive and depart. Spectators gawk at the commotion, camera phones snapping photos every second. And yet, as you stand there, you hear nothing.

Ironic.

Flack stood next to a police car with his notebook in his hand, yet wasn't writing anything down. His electric blue eyes focused on the shattered window in the front of the restaurant.

The scene was so familiar. Tables and chairs turned over, their previous placement a mystery. Glasses smashed into pieces littered throughout the floor. Plates of food were abandoned and long forgotten. He'd been in that situation before. The reason however was completely different.

Then it had been to toast to his fallen partner. Now it was a first date.

_Ironic, _he thought.

"Flack!"

The sound of his name broke through his thoughts, bringing the noise of the scene to his ears. He watched as Mac and Jo made their way to him, Jo in the front. Her features were colored with concern.

"Oh my goodness, are you alright?" The southern twang hung over every word as her dark brown eyes searched his for a hint of pain.

"I'm fine," he insisted, glad to see the relief wash over her face.

"Well thank goodness. I swear Don, they give you the day off and you still manage to end up at a crime scene." The statement elected a chuckle from both of the men.

Flack's eyes met Mac's as a silent exchange between the two men took place. Mac had noted the familiarity of the scene as well.

"Alright," Jo started, the professional side of her coming to light. "You were in the restaurant when the shooting started."

"Yup. One moment I'm sitting there enjoying my steak, the next…" he trailed off, no further explanation needed.

"Could you tell how many shots were fired?" Mac asked, his eyes surveying the scene.

"Three," Flack answered confidently. "I got up and ran towards the exit. All I could see was some red pickup truck hauling ass out of here. It went west on 38th, called it in but no luck."

"Could you tell the make?" Jo inquired.

Flack shook his head. "Something old, kind of rusty. Not something you see in Manhattan often. After I lost a visual, Natalie called to me about the victim."

"Natalie Dunn?" Jo had also been on the prep school murder.

Flack nodded. "We were having dinner."

If Mac or Jo had a comment about the pair's outing, they made no move to express it, but instead both nodded in understanding.

"It's a miracle no one else got hurt. Drive bys usually involve semi-automatic weapons, in order to do the most damage. Maintaining a large amount of accuracy while driving is a bit of a challenge. If there were only three shots, sounds like a more standard gun." Jo commented.

"We need to find those bullets." Mac nodded towards the scene.

"Doc is already processing the body." Flack told them before leading them underneath the crime tape.

Hawkes was crouching over the victim when they reached him, his gaze as usual focused intently on the body.

"Hannah Floyd, 24 years old," Flack started. "Her I.D. was in her purse. According to her license, she lives in Queens. Found a bunch of her business cards too; she's a hairstylist. Works at a salon a couple blocks away from here." He finished with a nod of his head.

"Bullet pierced right through her heart," Hawkes commented, his eyes never leaving the body. "It entered in the back of the shoulder and exited out the chest," he explained, using his index finger to point out the exit wound.

"So if Don saw the truck speed off to the right of the restaurant, and the vic was hit in the back, then she was walking in the same direction as the truck," Jo observed.

"Any witnesses that could maybe account for that fact?" Mac asked Flack.

"Possibly. There was a woman with blood spatter on the front of her shirt."

"That would mean she was directly in front of her when the shot was fired," Mac told him. "See if she saw anything that would help," he said before turning to Hawkes. "Sheldon, see if you can find the bullets so we can figure out exactly what kind of weapon we're dealing with."

"I'll hit the streets to see if I can pick up some types of treads," Jo said.

Mac nodded. "I'll head back with the body."

Flack too nodded before heading backs towards the edge of the sidewalk. His eyes scanned the crowd, looking for the red headed woman from before. He spotted her sitting in the back of the ambulance, a paramedic in front of her.

"Don."

Before he could move, Natalie came to stand in front him. Her hair was slightly disheveled and the happiness from her case victory was gone. He green eyes seemed darker, even with the sunlight shining above them.

"Are you okay?" he asked her.

She nodded. "Yeah I'm fine. You?"

He again nodded.

"You did good you know."

"What do you mean?" he asked, confused.

"Just, springing into action I guess," she told him.

"Just doing my job," he answered with a shrug.

"Well, you do a good job." She replied, a small smile forming on her face.

"Thanks," he told her. His eyes unconsciously drifted past her shorter figure, landing on the red headed woman. The paramedic was gone but she still sat motionless.

"Hey," he said, turning back to Natalie. "I got a witness to question. Talk to you later?"

"Sure," she replied.

He smiled at her before moving towards the ambulance.

He approached slowly, watching the woman's face. Her gaze remained fixed on something, the hazel eyes showing a hint of blue he hadn't noticed before. Her bangs were longs, brushing the tips of her long eyelashes. The rest of her hair hung around her face and down past her shoulders. The makeup she had been wearing was no longer precise but smudged slightly, surrounding her eyes with a shadow of sorts, bringing more intensity to her hazel orbs.

"Hey," he said softly.

His voice startled her; evident in the way she jumped at his greeting.

He immediately felt a pang of guilt. "Sorry," he said quickly.

She shook her head. "It's okay," she told him.

"Ma'am, I'm Detective Don Flack, with the NYPD. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions Miss…"

"Adele. Adele Keller."

"Ms. Keller, do you…."

"Just Adele," she corrected him, her shoulders shrugging slightly.

"Adele," he started. "Do you remember what happened?"

She paused, biting her bottom lip. "I um, was walking and then there was this loud cracking noise and then…" she trailed off.

Flack watched as her eyes left his and move to a sight beyond him. He turned to see the coroners lifting the body into a body bag.

He turned back to her, watching her eyes follow their every movement.

"You know," she began, her eyes still fixed on the coroners. "It's weird, you see all of this stuff on TV all the time; never think anything of it. But now, it's like all so…" she trailed off as if trying to think of the right word.

"Real," he offered.

Her eyes found their way back to his. "Yeah," she agreed softly.

As he watched her, he was surprised at the way he all of sudden felt bad for her. So often, people were caught in the wrong place at the wrong time and though Hannah Floyd had gotten the worst of it, he couldn't help but think of the images this poor woman would forever have in her head.

"Listen, I know this is tough, but anything you remember right before everything happened would be helpful."

He watched as she again bit her bottom lip in thought. In the short time he'd known her he picked up that that must have been a habit of hers.

When he could tell that she was still having trouble, he spoke again. "How about we head to the precinct instead; it might make it a little easier. Maybe get some coffee in you."

For the first time, he watched as she smiled slightly. "I hate coffee," she said looking him.

He couldn't help but smile back. "Well then tea."

She nodded, a small chuckle escaping her lips.

After a chuckle of his own, Flack held out a hand to help her down from the ambulance. She took it, placing her hand in his larger one. He noted how her skin felt delicately soft in his own rough skin as she got down.

Flack moved to let go of her hand but her grip was firm. He saw that her gaze had drifted back to where the body had lay. Her eyes had again widened and the evidence of any smile of hers was gone.

He said nothing and led the way towards his car, her hand still in his.

You're standing in the middle of a crime scene talking with a witness and suddenly can't take your eyes off of them.

_Ironic_

Word of the day.

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><p><em>Disclaimer: All the things you recognize don't belong to me. <em>

_A.N. – Thank you again for all the comments and alerts. It means a lot to know that people are enjoying it. _

_**~ Pecan Tweet**_


	3. Seeing Red

Kindled Hearts

Chapter Two**/ Seeing Red**

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><p>"<em>As I was going to the Faire of Dingle,<br>One fine morning last July,  
>And walking down the road before me,<br>A red-haired girl I chanced to spy."_

"_Come ride with me, my red-hair maiden,  
>My donkey, he can carry two.<br>She looked at me, her eyes a-twinklin'  
>And her cheeks a rosy hue"<em>

"Sid."

The interruption caught Sid off his guard, the morgue having previously been empty aside from him. With only lifeless bodies surrounding him the doctor had grown annoyed with the quiet. The song started as a hum and within in time had turned coherent, growing louder and louder with each verse. Remembering the complete set of lyrics of his next song choice had been his mind's current focal point, disabling him from noticing the presence of new members in the room.

"God Mac, don't sneak up on me like that!" he exclaimed, his hand resting over his chest, no doubt bringing comfort to his accelerated heart rate.

"I didn't," Mac started. "I simply walked in and said your name."

Danny, whose chuckling had subdued, gave the older man a smile. "I didn't peg you as much of a country music fan Sid."

"Well actually Danny, that wasn't a country song. It was sung by Sean McCarthy, who was born in Listowel, a small market town in County Kerry, Ireland. Though I'm not of Irish ancestry, I do find their native folk music to be quite…"

"Sid." Mac had now interrupted the quirky doctor twice. "I think you have a body to show us."

Sid nodded. "Why yes I do. Right this way gentleman."

He led them to the body of interest, resting peacefully on the cool metal table. Her blonde hair was cut stylishly short, pieces falling in different directions. Her skin was pale, unclear if it was innate or a characteristic of death. Her facial features in light of the situation seemed almost calm; her full lips neither curled nor frowned.

"Cause of death was a gunshot wound to the back, which pierced the heart, and then exited out the chest."

"Hawkes called, said he found two of the three bullets. One was covered in blood," Danny said.

Sid nodded. "Then that's your killer. But there's more to Ms. Floyd than meets the eye Mac."

Sid reached for a container resting on the edge of the table before handing it to Mac.

"Balloons," Mac stated, surprised.

Danny, haven taken a look as well, gestured with both hands to the victim. "You're telling me that this chick was a drug mule?"

Sid nodded. "Drug mule, kinder surprise, Easter eggs, internal carriers. The term varies widely among different cultures. In fact, in Lithuania, the term refers to when a woman..."

"Sid," Mac interjected. Third time's a charm.

"So, what are the chances that the only victim of this drive-by just happens to be a drug mule?" Danny questioned.

"Maybe she was the target," Sid offered. "Illegal drug trafficking is a dangerous business."

Danny nodded while crossing his arms over his chest. "Flack _did _say that there were only three shots fired, not typical for a drive-by."

"And based on the trajectory, the truck was driving in the same direction as Hannah," Mac added.

"Almost like the truck was tailing her," Danny finished. "Mac, you really think she could've been the target?"

Mac sighed. "Only one way to find out. We need to find that truck"

"I'll call Jo, see if there was any luck with finding treads."

Mac nodded. "Thanks Sid,"

Sid nodded in return and watched as the two men made their way out of the morgue. Sighing, he looked around at all the bodies lying around him. "Guess it's just us again"

Moving to begin his next autopsy, Sid began to sing softly.

"_Keep your hands off Red Haired Mary,  
>Her and I will soon be wed."<em>

_,,,,,,,,,_

Flack stood outside the ladies bathroom, waiting for Lindsay. After he left the crime scene, he called informing her that he had a piece of evidence coming in: Adele's shirt. Lindsay had met him at the precinct, taking the NYPD t-shirt he had obtained for her. She led their witness into the bathroom, promising to only take a moment.

Flack sighed as he leaned against the wall. His mind drifted back to the shooting. One moment, you're having a conversation like any other day. The next, glass is flying, people are screaming, and you know it's up to you to take charge. You've taken an oath, one that you'll swear to until the day you die.

"Flack?"

Flack looked over to see Lindsay looking up at him, their large height difference causing her to do so. "You okay?" she asked him.

He nodded. "Rough day."

Lindsay smiled lightly while placing a comforting hand on his arm. "I bet," she agreed. "Next time you're free, spaghetti night at my house."

Flack smiled, a reflex to the mention of her signature dish. "You know my weakness Linds," he teased.

"I do," she boasted jokingly.

"Danny just called," he told her. "Turns out our victim was moving drugs."

Lindsay looked at him, her head tilted slightly to the side. "Flack, do you think Hannah was the target?"

He nodded. "It's beginning to look more and more like it is."

_,,,,,,,_

"No you may not have order a pizza," Jo stated in the phone. "Because I said so. Plus didn't we just have pizza last night?" There was a pause. "Heat up the meatloaf like I told you to." There was another pause. "No, those are onions. Yes, okay. Bye Sweetie."

Jo smiled as she slid the phone back in her pocket. Camera still in hand, she focused it on the tire treads on the street she stood on. They showed a car breaking as it turned the corner. She snapped another photo, the flash shining bright, contrasting against the dark left behind by the setting sun.

The late Tuesday evening was warm, bringing out the New York nightlife which seemed to be present, no matter what day of the week it was. She smiled at a man walking past the crime scene tape wearing a cape around his suit. He was rambling on about the end of the world, drawing the attention of tourists, while staying unnoticed by natives.

She loved New York.

She sighed as her phone rang again.

"Ellie, just put the loaf into the oven please. It's good for you. Don't you want to be big and strong?"

_"I thought I was already big and strong," _the voice answered.

"Oh my goodness, I'm sorry Danny. I thought you were Ellie. Girl's more stubborn than a Texas born mule."

She could her Danny laugh through the phone._ "Speaking of mule, turns out, the vic was a drug mule."_

"Really? Is it possible that she was the target and maybe the shooting wasn't so random."

_"Yeah, that's what we're all thinking. Did you manage to find any treads?"_

"Yeah, I got a set. No way of telling if they belong to the truck until I get them to Adam. I'm heading to the lab now."

_,,,,,,,_

Flack and Lindsay's conversation subsided when the bathroom door open again and Adele exited, staring down at the t-shirt. "At least it fits," she joked lightly.

In retrospect, the shirt was two sizes too big. It hung loosely over her petite frame, stopping in the middle of her thighs.

"Thank Flack for that one," Lindsay told her.

"Look, I'm one of the smallest guys in this precinct and I wear an extra large. Captain doesn't even request small ones," he said defensively.

"Sure," Lindsay said before turning to Adele. "It was nice meeting you, as unfortunate as the circumstances."

"You too," Adele replied, seemingly grateful for Lindsay's presence.

Lindsay turned to Flack. "I'm going to get this back to the lab," she said, nodding towards the large brown paper bag.

She turned and headed down one of the long corridors of the building.

Flack look towards Adele. "You can follow me."

She nodded, running a hand through her hair before following Flack as he led her past the array of desks and officers, uniformed and plain clothed alike.

When they reached his desk, he motioned for her to sit in his chair. He grabbed an empty chair and placed it next to his desk, taking a seat.

He watched her for a moment as she took in the scenery around them before motioning to a cup resting on his desk. "I managed to make you some tea, though I can't promise it'll be good. I found the tea bags in the very back of the pantry so who knows how long they've been in there. No one here drinks it since a cops diet consists of mostly coffee and donuts."

She laughed as she drew the cup closer. "I'm sure it'll be fine," she told him. "So the whole cops and donuts thing is true?" she questioned with a small smile.

"I do enjoy a nicely baked jelly-filled pastry every now and then," he jokingly replied.

They both shared another laugh before silence grew between them. The next topic of conversation was clear yet neither seemed brave enough to venture into that particular territory.

"Listen," Flack started, knowing that he had a job to do. "I know this is probably hard to talk about, but any information you have would be great."

Adele nodded. "I know," she said with a soft sigh.

"Take your time, start from the beginning." He knew how this went. Witnesses always had trouble, their mind running a mile a minute from the day's events. The trick was to get them calm, allowing their thoughts to slow and become clear.

"You were walking..." he slowly offered her.

"Home from work," she filled in.

"Where do you work?"

"The Wine Market, it's a restaurant."

Flack nodded. The name did sound familiar though he couldn't say he'd been. "What do you do?"

"I'm a pastry chef," she told him.

Flack's eyebrows rose in interest. "Really? I guess you probably know more about jelly-filled pastries than I do," he said with a smile, before pausing. "Don't most cooks work late, like with the dinner crowd?"

Adele nodded. "I work late Wednesday through Saturday. On Tuesdays I go in early, and we work on the menu for the week, order supplies, that kind of stuff."

"Okay, so you're walking home," he led her back to the day's events. "Anything out of the ordinary?"

"Not really," she said with a shrug. "Aside from typical New York weirdness."

She had a point.

"What about when you were on the block that the shooting took place?"

Again, she told him that she didn't remember seeing anything unusual.

Flack knew that his chances were getting slim. According to all of the officers that were questioning witnesses, no one had seen anything, in particular a red pickup truck. His confirmation of watching the truck turning the corner quickly was not brought into question and he didn't doubt it. He knew what he'd seen. Yet the testimony of another witness would cement the truck's involvement.

"What about the cars on the street? Did any of them stick out?" His last chance.

Adele shook her head. "No, not that I can remember."

Game over.

He moved his hands over his legs, resting them on knees as he prepared to stand. He contemplated his next move. The security cameras on the street had been conveniently out of order, allowing the truck to remain only in the replay of the event seen in his mind.

"There was this truck."

He froze, his eyes intently on her as she looked into her cup. She bit her bottom lip, as she seemingly often did, while focusing on the brown liquid.

"I think it was red. It just kind of stuck out next to all the cabs and black luxury cars you usually see."

Flack let out a sigh of relief as he leaned back in his chair. He felt his heart rate speed up as it did whenever things went his way.

_Round Two_

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><p><em>Anything you recognize doesn't belong to me.<em>

_Thanks again for all those who have put either me or the story on alert. I'm hoping you all continue to read more! It'll be picking up in the next few chapters so keep a look out!_

_**~ Pecan Tweet**_


	4. Good News and Curfews

Kindled Hearts

Chapter Three**/ Good News and Curfews**

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><p>"Did you get anything from the witness?"<p>

The blur of movement in the doorway of his office caused Mac to look up, the phone still attached to his ear.

Jo.

He motioned her in with the nod of his head, swiveling slightly in his chair.

"Alright, good. Danny just left to go visit the Hannah Floyd's apartment. See if you can meet him there and dig up anything that could help us figure out why someone wanted her dead."

He hung up the phone and watched as Jo moved closer to his desk.

"Flack?" she asked.

"The witness he was questioning remembered seeing a red pickup truck right before the shooting started," he told her.

"Just like Flack." He face lit up as the broad smile formed on her face. "That's definitely good news."

"I was hoping you would have some more for me." He again swiveled in his chair slightly, watching as she smiled.

"Well Mr. High Expectations," she started teasingly. "I did manage to find a distinct fresh set of treads on the street where Flack saw the truck make the hard right. I gave them to Adam so _maybe _we'll get lucky." She watched as he took in all of the information. "Is that good enough news?"

He nodded, suppressing a smile. "It is."

Jo narrowed his eyes in playful annoyance just as someone knocked on the door.

The both watched as Hawkes entered the room, the computer tablet in his hand. There was a familiar energy featured in each step he took as he approached Mac's desk, he posture straight.

"Tell me you've come to help fill Mac's good news bucket," Jo asked, nodding in their bosses' direction.

"Maybe," Hawkes said. "I found two bullets at the scene. One impacted without the outside of the building, crushing it on impact. I still managed to find traces of blood."

"The victim's," Mac filled in.

Hawkes nodded. "DNA confirmed it. The second bullet however was the one that broke the glass of the restaurant. It traveled until hitting a painting hanging on the wall, damaging it was well. I did however manage to find the casing."

He handed the tablet to Mac.

".45 GAP," Mac read aloud.

"So this guy is using some form of a Glock pistol?" Jo asked.

Hawkes nodded. "It may not lead us to the killer's doorstop but if we the find the gun we might be able to confirm it was used in the shooting."

"Then we're right at the front door," Jo added, playing off of Hawkes' words.

"Exactly," he finished.

"Good work Sheldon," Mac told the CSI, setting the tablet on his desk.

"Good work Adam."

The three occupants in the room looked to see Adam making his way into the office, a tablet of his own in his hand.

"Excuse me," Mac said, his eyebrows raised.

"No um, I just mean that's what you might say after you see what I found. I wasn't trying to ask for any type of, well, um," he stopped talking, taking a breath. Slowing himself down before Mac had to, he started again. "I analyzed the tire treads Jo gave me." He handed the tablet to Jo, opting to stay farther away from Mac's desk.

"17x7-1/2, 6 lug, 135mm bolt pattern steel wheel," she read, her pace showing that it was foreign territory for her.

"Now that's a factory tire, coming straight from the manufacturer. It's used for Ford f150's made between 2004 and 2008."

"Flack said the truck he saw was old, nothing that recent," Mac said.

"Well it's likely that if this guy owns an old model, he got new tires, especially if he has a model from the 70's or 80's. The original ones would have been way too old," Adam told him.

Mac nodded in understanding. "So we're looking for an old truck with relatively new tires," he thought aloud. He focused his attention on back on Adam. "Go through the car registry for the city. There can't be that many red Fords that were from the 90's and earlier. See if you can get me a list of names."

Adam nodded before turning to make his way out of the office.

Jo cleared her throat, looking pointedly at Mac and then nodding her head in Adam's direction.

"Oh and Adam," he called out, understanding her look.

"Yeah boss?"

"Good work."

,,,,,,,,

"Alright, sure thing."

Flack hung up the phone, telling Mac that he would join Danny in searching the victim's apartment.

He stood up from the chair he was seated in and moved it back to the empty desk from which he'd taken it earlier to interview Adele.

He saw the flash of red hair out of the corner of his eye as she made her way back to him. She had excused herself to the restroom to freshen up after one of the officers on the scene had pick up her purse as she'd left in the chaos and, upon noticing her in the precinct, had returned it to her. He noticed how in the two minutes she'd been gone, she came back looking different.

She had freshened up her makeup and pulled up her hair. The high bun rested loosely on the top of her head, yet the thick bangs still hung over her forehead and brushing the tops of her eyes like an awning over a doorway.

She approached him, her step light.

"You okay?" He asked, noticing her changing disposition.

"Yeah," she said with a nod. "Happy to go home and try and forget about today." She looked briefly around the precinct. "Happy to get out of here," she said frankly before meeting eyes with Flack again. "No offense," she added.

"What?" He replied. "You telling me that you don't like our modern chic décor?" He asked, the question dipped in playful sarcasm.

"As beautiful as it is, no," she played along.

He chuckled. "Where you headed?"

"50th, in between 3rd and 2nd."

"Need a ride?"

She smiled, though shaking her head. "It's okay. I'm sure you've got work to do."

"It's fine. I was headed towards Queens. You're on the way." He told her, not sure who he was trying to convince.

"Okay," she agreed.

He led her out of the precinct and into the late autumn night. The sun had gone down but the city was still aglow amidst all of the streetlights, headlights, and window lights. He glanced at his watch.

9:02

With the shooting, he'd lost track of time. He knew that the visit to the victim's apartment would put him home past midnight.

All part of the job.

The two made their way to his car, Flack opening the door for Adele before moving to the driver's side. They rode for a moment in comfortable silence, the quiet hum of the engine the only thing either heard.

Stopping at a red light, Flack let his eyes wander, landing on Adele as she leaned against the window. Her eyes focused on something in the distance. Even in the darkness, they glowed. He could see the reflection of the streetlight above them dance in the pools of hazel. He cleared his throat in attempt to break his thoughts, focusing them back on the road. He gesture however pulled her out of reverie. Out the corner of his eye, he could see her glance in his direction.

"So," he started. Figuring since he had broke the silence he had to offer up a fair alternative. "Pastry chef? Not something you see every day. What led you to that?"

"My grandmother bakes. I guess you could say it's in my blood," she told him, combining the last statement with a chuckle. "What about you?" she asked him.

The speed at which she redirected the conversation left him thinking that she didn't want to dwell deeper into her own story.

"Oh wait, let me guess," she continued. "You father was a cop too?"

"Yeah, how'd you know that?"

She shrugged. "I didn't. It's just always the story."

He laughed, knowing the truth behind it. Most TV New York cops came from a family of cops.

_Too many cop shows._

"And his father was one too," he told her.

"Blue blood," she replied with anther chuckle.

"It seems to me that you're in the same situation as me."

"Except baking doesn't come with all the dangers of being a cop," she pointed out.

"What?" he said in mock surprise. "No knife wielding and egg tossing going on behind closed doors?"

"Hardly," she started. "Though things do get intense at the conventions sometimes."

"Conventions?" he asked in disbelief.

She laughed lightly. "Cake conventions, cupcake conventions, _donut_ conventions." She put extra emphasis on the word donut.

"Have you been to one?"

"If I said yes, would you judge me?"

He shook his head. "No. I'd ask you to invite me," he joked. "I'm down for some taste testing."

"Believe me, by the time it's over, the thought of another cupcake or donut makes you sick. It's a weekend of way too much food."

"No such thing," he told her, a seriousness in his tone.

She laughed before pointing out that they had reached her street.

Flack pulled the car up in front of the seemingly nice apartment building. The dark brick was accented by the forest green canopy covering the doorway.

"Thanks for the ride Detective," she told him, her handing resting on the door handle.

"No problem. And if you remember anything, feel free to give me a call. You have my card."

She nodded, patting her purse in reference before climbing out of the car.

He waited until she made her way into the building and out of sight.

With a sigh and one last look at the building, Flack put the car into drive and made his way into the night.

,,,,,,,,,,,

"Do you know what time it is?"

Mac looked up to find Jo in his doorway. She had her messenger back slung over her shoulder and a look of disbelief on her face.

"Just after nine," he answered, already knowing were the conversation was going. "Not that late."

"Maybe not to normal people but for Head of Crime Labs that haven't had a good night's sleep in who knows how long, its super late."

"Jo," he started.

"Mac," she said defensively.

"I've got paperwork."

"Which will still be here in the morning," she pointed out.

"I'll be out by ten."

He watched as her eyes glared at him before sighing in defeat. "Promise?"

"Promise," he replied.

She narrowed her eyes even more. "Liar."

He could only smile.

Jo shook her head with a smile of her own. "Good night Mac," she called out as she turned and left the office.

Mac chuckled to himself before turning his focus back on the documents in front of him.

The silence of the lab enveloped around him and for a second he believed he might actually get things done to meet Jo's newly set deadline.

_More like curfew._

He heard the door to his office open again and he smiled, not looking up.

"Jo, I promise I'll be out of here."

"Mac?"

It wasn't Jo's voice.

His head shot up, his wide eyes landing on the figure standing in his office.

"Stella?"

* * *

><p><em>Anything you recognize doesn't belong to me.<em>

_Thank you again for anyone whose read and reviewed or put this story on alert. It continues to me a lot to me. Let me know how you feel about this chapter. I hope the ending brings some comfort to any Smacked fans. _

**_~Pecan Tweet_**


	5. What's in a Name?

Kindled Hearts

Chapter Four**/ What's in a Name?**

* * *

><p>The place Hannah Floyd called home was one he was familiar with.<p>

Hell, the whole NYPD was probably familiar with it. His guess? A third of the uniforms have driven this street. Half have patrolled the area. A quarter of them had actually had to go inside the building for some reason. Or would it be three quarters?

He hated math.

He saw Danny getting out of his Avalanche when he pulled up alongside the old building, the water washed bricks a sign of its maturity. Color ran along the exterior in the form of graffiti, some representing the stupidity of kids, others showing the marked territories of groups many had grown to fear. Cigarette butts were to the sidewalks as a picture frame would be to a photo, outlining the edges, a likely cause of all the daytime foot traffic.

Flack sighed as he shut off the engine and climbed out the car. He was grateful for the cool air that hit his face, giving him a small burst of energy.

Keyword being small.

_And today was supposed to be a day off._

In recent weeks he was beginning to deny their existence. The memory of his large king size bed at home was never more appealing than in that moment.

"This should be fun," Danny muttered, clearly just as tired as he was. He pushed his glasses further up his nose as he stared up at the building, his hands moving to his hips. "Predictions?"

Flack thought for a moment. "I say the apartment is empty, maybe just drug evidence," he started. "But on our way out we just happen to witness a drug transaction and are forced to arrest both the seller and the buyer which of course will cause them to run." One could barely hear him over all the disdain.

Danny nodded, contemplating the possibility. "I bet we get into the apartment and then find a conveniently placed strung out boyfriend who of course hasn't seen the victim in," he thought for a minute. "Two weeks."

It was Flack's turn to nod. "Ten bucks."

"Bring it on Crimestopper" The intended playfulness in their conversation conflicted with the lack of enthusiasm from both parties.

Flack led the way into the building; his experience as a detective allowing him to ignore the foul odors of must that surrounded him. The landlord, on receiving Danny's call stood in the hallway, his dirty t-shirt moving with his stomach. His dark hair was matted on his head, his mustache thick. He handed the key to Flack, mumbled something about sliding it under the door when they were finished, and then disappeared behind a door. Flack threw a look in Danny's direction.

They entered the stairwell and climbed up to the second floor, each step seeming larger than the next.

"What's the apartment number again?" Flack called over his shoulder.

"22B"

Flack walked along the small hallway, Danny having to stay behind because they wouldn't have fit side by side.

He reached the door, standing on the side while Danny moved to stand on the other. He opened it with the key, and pushed it opened. He poked his head in, quickly taking a look around, his hand hovering over his weapon unconsciously. He motioned for Danny to go left, towards the small kitchen and living space while he slowly moved into the open bedroom door. His eyes moved over the unmade bed before taking in the rest of the relatively neat bedroom. The open window provided a breeze through the air, as he noticed the décor, or rather lack thereof. The colors were bland and their lack any form of a personal touch leaving the apartment to seem surprisingly orderly.

"You got anything?" He heard Danny call out.

"Nothing."

He walked out of the room and met Danny back in the living room. "Is it just me or does this place seem a little too neat and tidy?" He asked, his blue eyes continuing to circle the room.

"What you mean to say a little too neat and tidy for a possible drug mule."

Flack snorted. "I'm sorry, how judgmental of me."

Danny opened his mouth to respond but a sound coming from the bedroom caught his attention. His eyes met Flacks', his gaze showing he heard it too.

Flack pulled his gun out of the holster and made his way back into the room he had just exited. Danny followed with his own weapon in hand.

Two pairs of blue eyes scanned the room, listening carefully as they silently trekked across the worn carpet. Danny nodded towards the closet.

Typical.

Flack stood on the other side and trained his gun as Danny moved to open it.

He didn't have to however because a moment later, another sound caught their attention and they turned just in time to see the dark figure launch out from under the bed and dash out the window.

The two locked eyes for a brief moment before Danny ran out the room. "I jumped last time."

If Flack had had the time, he would have rolled his eyes and then pointed out to Danny that today was supposed to be his day off and he _really_ didn't want to spend it running.

But he didn't have time. And it _was_ his turn to jump.

He reached the window, expecting to see the perp going down a fire escape or hanging from the window seal but there was no fire escape. The idiot had literally jumped out the window and down onto the concrete pavement that made up the alley next to the building.

"Damn!" He shouted, hoping on the window seal and jumping down.

With a thud he landed on his feet. He looked to the right and saw the current cause of his headache running along the side of the building.

He picked up his pace, breathy heavily out of his mouth. His mind raced though possible insults to give this guy after he caught him.

_Dumbass_

Dumbass continued to race ahead as he reached the corner. Flack was gaining on him and hoped that Danny had made it out of the building in time. He watched as Dumbass turned the corner out of his sight.

A moment later however he flew back into sight, with quite a bit of force, landing him on his back.

_Go Danno!_

He slowed, reaching Dumbass as he lay in the street, groaning and mumbling incoherently. Reaching down, he pulled the scrawny guy to his feet. Flack noticed how the guy's head barely reached his shoulder as he skillfully placed the handcuffs on his wrists.

"What's you name buddy? Huh, and what were you doing in that apartment?" Danny asked.

"Jerry," he said, his voice going in and out.

_High as a kite_

"Why were you in that apartment Jerry?" Flack asked irritably.

"It's my girlfriend's place." His head bobbed around and Flack was sure for minute it was going to fall off.

"What's her name?" Danny asked him.

"Hannah. I swear I was just chilling dudes."

Flack did his best to ignored the 'dudes' portion of the answer and looked at Danny whose smirk rested proudly on his face.

"Put it on my tab."

**,,,,,,,,,,**

"_Stella?"_

Like a mirage, she stood in his doorway, the light from the lab glowing around her. Her familiar smile appeared and without his control, his own formed. He slowly stood from his chair.

Her soft green eyes watched his every movement as they so often did in the past. He moved from behind his desk and closer to her slowly, not willing to chance her presence.

Her lack of patience seemed to get the best of her as she moved to him, her arms wrapping around his neck. "Hi Mac," she mumbled into his shoulder.

His arms found their way to her waist, bringing her closer to him. He savored the moment, not fully trusting its authenticity. Her curls brushed against the skin of his face and the soft lilac smell he'd grew to love filled his senses.

They slowly pulled apart, Stella clearing her throat. She smoothed down the front of her dark sweater as she smiled up at Mac.

"What are you doing her Stella?" He asked with focused eyes.

"The D.A's office called. One of the cases I was working on right before I left had the trial moved up. I still needed to testify to the all the things I documented and collected."

"How long are you here for?"

"Well the trial lasts until Thursday but I'm here until Sunday. Figured I've give myself some time to visit everyone," she said, her eyes locked on his. "Catch up."

Mac smiled genuinely. "I'm glad you're here Stella. The lab isn't the same."

She laughed lightly, looking around. He watched as she seemed to take in all the familiar sights. "I miss it," she said with a soft sigh.

"How's New Orleans?"

She shrugged. "It's nice. I've got a good team."

His eyebrows rose. "I sense a 'but' coming up."

Stella shook her head with laughter, her curls bouncing on her head. "You read people so well."

He fought back the urge to tell her that she was the only one he read necessarily well.

"I guess," he chose instead.

She smiled. "I don't want to bore you with my troubles."

"Stella," he said seriously. "You wouldn't be boring me." He looked at his watch. "That Italian place you like so much is still open," he offered, a slight twinkle in his eye.

"Yes," she said with a groan. "I swear Mac one of the biggest things I miss about New York are all the eating places."

Mac laughed, offering her a hand. "Let's go."

**,,,,,,,,,,,,**

Jerry 'Dumbass' Kanton sat at the table, his fingers strumming an annoying tune against the cold metal. His nails, like the rest of him, were dirty leaving his previous whereabouts to be only a figment of one's imagination. His gyms shorts and Hawaiian style button down shirt only added to his quirkiness. Or rather stupidity.

"I'm telling you dudes, I don't know what happened to Hannah."

From the corner of the interrogation room, Flack pinched the bridge of the nose. After he and Danny brought Kanton to the precinct the night before, he was determined to be both intoxicated and under the influence of marijuana. The combination left him unavailable for an interview, forcing him to spend the night in lock up.

Flack was initially pleased as it would allow him to sleep before having to talk to the idiot, figuring he wouldn't have to worry about the headache he'd gotten last night.

Wrong.

Kanton as Flack now referred to him, feeling Dumbass was inappropriate as he now knew the man's name, was only proving to be a large thorn in his side.

He hadn't given Jo a straight answer as he sat across from her in the room.

"Well when was the last time you saw her Jerry?" Jo asked, her voice not laced with the anger and annoyance Flack was more than sure his would have carried.

"Man, I don't know. I guess like two weeks ago."

Flack glanced at the two way mirror, knowing Danny was back there, probably with a smile on his face.

"So you haven't see your girlfriend for two weeks and all of sudden you're under her bed." Jo laced her hands together as she placed them on the table, leaning in as if more interested.

"Look, Hannah goes away for weeks at a time. She does it all the time. Sometimes she tells me, sometimes she doesn't. We just got that kind of relationship ya know. We don't need to know everything about each other."

"But why were you under her bed Dumbass?" Okay, so he'd let one slip.

"I heard someone come in and got a little spooked."

Flack sighed, knowing that the conversation was going nowhere.

Jo must have sensed it too as she stood form her chair, telling Kanton they'd be back before leading the way out of the room.

Flack followed her into the observation room, rolling his eyes as Danny smiled broadly at him. "Did I call or what?"

"Lucky guess," he said before nodding to Kanton, who had gone back to drumming the incessant tune. "We don't have anything on this asshole." Well, it wasn't dumbass. "I mean is this guy even involved in the shooting?"

Before anyone could answer, Flack's phone rang.

"Flack."

Danny and Jo watched as a strong frown grew on his face, his eyebrows furrowing. "Where?" he barked into the phone. "Alright, we're on our way."

"What is it?" Jo asked alert.

"There was another shooting fifteen minutes ago. Some coffee shop."

Danny's eyes drifted towards Kanton. "Well I guess _that_ answers your question."

* * *

><p><em>Anything you recognize doesn't belong to me.<em>

_Thanks as always to everyone who reads. I know that none of the OCs made an appearance but they're coming back strong next chapter so bear with me. I hope you all continue to read. Thanks!_

_**~Pecan Tweet**_


	6. Chaos Reigns

Kindled Hearts

Chapter Five**/ Chaos Reigns**

* * *

><p>A New York City coffee shop on a weekday morning was just short of chaotic.<p>

Regulars entered in their suits while professionally strolling up to the counter, armed with their usual orders and the advantage of knowing the people behind the counter. They skillfully paid their tabs and waited on their coffee, every so often checking their watches to ensure the board meeting hadn't started yet.

In an opposite fashion, tourists would enter, eyes wide with the idea of being in an authentic New York coffee shop, as if they had something different from a local one. The would look around, smiling at the hustle and bustle that filled the shop as though it was just like they had imagined, no doubt with the help of a Law and Order episode. They would wait in line but then choose to wait until they reached the front to ponder over the different options. They would order and wait, and when obtaining the coffee, drink it as though it was the best thing they ever tested.

A New York City coffee shop on a weekday morning was just short of chaotic, unless of course there was a shooting.

That's when it reached chaotic.

Flack had just arrived at the scene. He took in the sight, similar to the one from yesterday; ambulances, fire trucks, officers moving all around him. The large windows in the front of the shop had been completely shattered, the glass lying all around. He noted a few customers sitting in the back of ambulances with paramedics wrapping wounds and checking bones.

He looked over at Danny who had rode with him and nodded before moving towards the core of the commotion. They noticed Lindsay eyeing the window with deep concentration. She must have sensed them coming as her head shot up. Upon landing on Danny, her large brown eyes softened momentarily before returning to their previous state.

"No casualties," she said first, a sigh of relief following.

"That's good," Flack agreed.

"There are at 4 separate windows here," she started, pointing to the windows. "All of them are broken which means there were at least 4 shots."

"Did anyone remember hearing how many?" Danny asked.

"Some say 4, some say 8, some say 15, and then there was the man that didn't hear any shots, just shattering glass," she answered.

"Helpful," Flack deadpanned.

Lindsay nodded in agreement. "We're just going to have and try to find the bullets and hopefully get a better idea of exactly what happened."

"If they match the ones Hawkes found at the restaurant, we'll know it was the same guy," Danny said.

"Flack."

Flack turned upon hearing his name. He watched as Mac approached him, kit in hand.

"No casualties Mac but we have…" he trailed when he saw the familiar face following behind Mac. "Stella?"

His ocean blue eyes lightened as he smiled, moving closer.

"Hey Don," she greeted with a bright smile of her own. The two shared a hug before she moved to greet Danny and Lindsay.

"What are you doing here?" Lindsay asked when they pulled apart.

"I've got to testify later today; I flew in last night. I'm here until Sunday which means I have time to see my little Lucy."

Lindsay laughed. "No so little anymore."

Stella looked at Danny who was shaking his head at the thought of his little girl growing up.

"You got here last night?" Flack asked, glancing between her and Mac. He locked eyes with Mac and waggled his thick eyebrows.

Mac tried his best to ignore him but couldn't hide the red creeping up from his neck.

"What do you have for me Lindsay?" he asked, changing the subject.

Lindsay ran through all she knew about the scene, going through the windows and witness accounts. "Safe to say Hannah Floyd wasn't the target if this guy is still shooting."

When she finished, Flack spoke up. "On my way over here, I called traffic control. Turns out the surveillance on this street _does _work and they're sending the footage to the lab. It should get there soon."

Mac nodded. "I'll have Adam check it out as soon as it does. In the meantime, we need to make sure we search this place up and down for any bullets. They'll help us account for how many shots were fired." He glanced in Stella's direction who was already smiling.

"Anyone got an extra set of gloves?"

Flack shook his head in laughter. "Just like old times."

**,,,,,,,,,,,**

Jo sat at her desk, fumbling through a case folder that sat amongst the many other case folders and papers alike that layered around her desk. She heard someone clear their throat in the doorway.

"You find out anything new?"

Jo shook her head. "Not a thing Sheldon. Assuming the second shooting is related, the boyfriend is innocent. I really don't think he would have done it anyway."

"Well Adam just got the footage from the second scene, if you want to check it out," he teased.

"You know I would," she told him, rising from her seat.

The two made their way out of her office and towards the AV lab.

They entered as Adam sat in front of the computer with his eyes scanning over the screen. It showed footage from the street of the coffee shop, each frame showing a different set of cars. In the middle of each frame however, there was some sort of distortion, disfiguring each car into a blur.

"What's that in the middle of the screen?" Jo asked.

Adam jumped, clearly not aware of their presence. He mumbled something incoherent to both of the CSIs who shared a humorous look.

"Adam?" Hawkes interrupted.

"Sorry," he again mumbled before turning back to the screen. "The traffic control camera had a crack in the screen. According to their reports, it happened a few weeks ago and was ordered to be repaired tomorrow."

Jo crossed her arms over her chest. "Are you kidding me? I mean, the killer couldn't just wait until tomorrow."

Adam laughed before using the pen he held in his hand to point at the screen. "Luckily it's still possible to make out most of the vehicles. Now the camera is at the end of the street and the coffee shop was in the middle. We won't be able to see the shots being fired but we will be able to see the truck leave that particular block."

"The shooting occurred at about 9:30 this morning," Jo said.

Adam nodded, typing t quickly at the keyboard. "Okay, so this is starting at 9:28."

He ran each frame, one at a time, speeding up as the three pairs of eyes hovered closely, waiting for the vehicle of interest to come across.

"There!" Jo all but shouted as the red blur appeared on the screen. She smiled brightly at Hawkes as though she'd just one some sort of game.

Hawkes shook his head before focusing back on Adam. "You think we can get a solid view, one that will give us a license plate?"

"I think if I save each frame individually," Adam started, for once talking slowly as he typed away at a rapid speed. "I can put them all together and get us a solid image." He struck one last key in completion as he looked at the screen. "Oh."

Hawkes and Jo noticed what led to his statement as they eyed the red truck that Adam had put together.

"No plate," Jo said, her voiced laced with disappointment.

"That's a big risk, driving without a plate. Really easy to get pulled over," Hawkes pointed out.

"I think if this guy is willing to shoot up public place, he's willing to get pulled over," Jo replied.

"So without a plate, how do we even know if this is the right truck? I'm sure there's more than one red pickup in the city," Hawkes questioned.

Jo smiled. "We ask our witness," she answered before focusing her attention back on Adam. "Send the composed image to Flack. Hopefully he'll recognize the truck."

**,,,,,,,,,,,,**

"And this makes six," Stella said, placing the bullet in the small envelope.

Danny stood from his position. "Six shots total."

"They seem to be consistent with the ones from the first scene but we're going to have to confirm at the lab," Lindsay pointed out.

"Let's get back and see if we can get a match," Mac informed them.

The team slowly gathered there things together, going over the last bits of the scene. They made their way outside to see Flack talking to another officer. He noticed them coming out and walked over.

"Any luck?"

"Six bullets," Stella told him.

"Nice. Hopefully we get a match." His phone beeped, causing him to pull it from his waist.

"What it is?" Danny asked.

"Adam managed to get a solid picture of the truck. No plates though," he told them.

"Is that the same one you saw?" Lindsay asked Flack, peering at his phone at the image he had just received from the lab.

"I think so. I only saw it from the back but it looks the same."

"Didn't your witness see it too?" Danny asked.

Flack nodded.

"She was walking in the opposite direction so she should have seen it," Mac said.

Flack pulled out his car keys. "Only one way to find out."

**,,,,,,,,,,,**

Cinnamon. He definitely smelled cinnamon.

He checked his notepad one last time, making sure he was at the right door.

_309_

He raised his hand to knock and waited for a response.

A minute passed and there was nothing. He knocked again, this time a little harder. Listening closely, he swore he heard movement. Another second later, the door swung open.

The aroma hit him like an army charging at its opponent. The sweet scent lingered around him and for a second, he forgot why he was there.

Adele stood in front of him, her high bun again on the top of her head. She wore grey Rangers t-shirt that hugged her body tightly as the lavender colored sweatpants hung loosely on her hips. She looked up at him, a mix of surprise and confusion resting on her face.

"Detective Flack, hi. Um, come on in," she said, standing back to allow him to enter.

Flack could only smile politely as he moved in, mentally scolding himself.

_Just ask about the damn truck_

"I see you're a Rangers fan."

So much for that.

"Huh?" she looked at him confused.

"The shirt."

She looked down as if she didn't know what he was talking about. "Oh this. No, I actually got this from some flea market. All I know is that the Rangers are a hockey team, but thats it."

He laughed, telling himself that was why he took in another large whiff of the sweet smell surrounding him. "Baking something?"

She smiled, nodding towards another of the apartment. "Cinnamon pumpkin bread."

He glanced in the direction she indicated, his eyes scanning the entirety of the setting.

It was bright, not something he was used to. The floors were a light hardwood as peach colored walls scaled around him. The furniture all followed suit of the rest of the tone: light beiges and soft grays. Plants rested on many of the surfaces as intricate art hung on the walls.

He turned back to her, noticing her eyes watching him closely.

"Smells good."

She laughed. "Thanks. I've been forced to take off for a couple of days so this is how I spend my morning."

"Is it from scratch?" Her reaction made him feel like he asked a stupid question.

"Is there another way?"

He laughed. "I guess not for a pastry chef huh?"

She laughed with him momentarily before biting her bottom lip. "Listen, don't take this the wrong way but you being here, well, it's not just because you felt like saying hello."

She had a point.

"Yeah," he started, pulling out the picture he picked up from the lab on his way over. "I wanted to ask if you could take a look at this, maybe see if it looked familiar." He handed the picture to her.

Her hazel eyes scanned it and he noted the recognition that ran through the colored orbs.

"This is the truck I was talking about."

"You're sure?" he asked.

She nodded. "I think so, yeah. It looked just like this. Old, rusty, out of place." She handed it back to him. "I thought you didn't get a picture."

"We didn't. There was another shooting this morning."

Her eyes widened as her breathing slowed. "Where?"

"A coffee shop, not too far from the restaurant of the first shooting."

She looked down at her feet. "That's crazy." She looked back up at him. "You think it was the same guy?"

Flack kept his eyes on her. "That's what we're trying to figure out." He watched as her mood continued to spiral downward.

It was weird for him. He wasn't use to being in the company of people who were surprised when shootings happened. Jobs like his made you lose your sense of innocence in a way. Somehow, he found her reaction comforting.

"No one was hurt," he said, hoping it would help.

She let out a long breath. "I guess that's good." She paused, as she bit the inside of her mouth. "Wait, what coffee shop did you say it was?"

He pulled out his notebook, the name escaping him at that current moment. "The Coffee Island."

_Stupid name for a coffee shop_

"Are you serious?" she all but shouted.

Flack nodded, taken aback. "You heard of it?"

She nodded, swallowing. "Yeah, I swear I go there every morning. I just didn't today."

Flack straightened while he took it in. "Every day?"

She nodded. "Basically."

"What time would you say?" he asked, hoping she would answer like the way he thought she would.

"9:30, on the dot. I normally go straight from yoga." She watched his facial expression harden. "What? Why?"

Flack jaw tightened as he pulled out his phone and dialed the familiar number.

"Mac, its Don. I think I know what this guy is after."

* * *

><p><em>Anything you recognize isn't mine.<em>

_First of all, sorry for the long delay. I'm back at school and crazy enough, my professors don't seem to care much about my fan fiction. Imagine that?_

_But really, thank you for all the support and I hope everyone keeps reading. Thanks again!_

_**~Pecan Tweets**_


	7. The Last Lead

Kindled Hearts

Chapter Six**/ The Last Lead**

* * *

><p>Mac let out a sigh, bringing his hands together over the cold steel of the table.<p>

"And you're sure that nothing strange has happened in the last month or so?"

He watched as the woman in front of him shrugged her shoulders for what was sure to have been the tenth time since she's been sitting in front of him. Her bangs shook along with her head as she looked back at him with her hazel eyes. "I'm sorry Detective Taylor but I can't think of anything."

Another sigh.

"Well in the mean time, we're setting up an officer outside of your apartment building. He'll be tailing you until we can figure out what is going on."

The chuckle that escaped her mouth was a mix of shock and disbelief. "Wait, so you really think that whoever's doing all this will come to my apartment."

"We don't know yet Ms. Keller. Until we figure out how big of threat this is, I want to make sure you're safe."

From behind the two way mirror, a brown pair of experienced eyes watched Adele's every move.

Jo's years with the bureau made reading her fairly easy, her conclusion coming quickly to mind.

She looked up when the door to the observation room opened and a woman walked in, her curls bouncing on her shoulders. She noted the gracefully structured face and soft olive eyes, the features seeming somehow familiar.

Her mind flashed to the photograph she'd seen when she attended a birthday party for the young Lucy Messer. Recognition crossed Jo's face and she smiled immediately. "You must be Stella."

The woman smiled, a similar expression on her face. "And you're Jo."

Jo nodded, extending her hand. "It's nice to meet you. I've heard so many wonderful things about you."

Stella accepted the gesture. "I've heard the same about you. You're doing a great job. The team loves you."

Jo smiled. "And I love them; something you and I both know is as easy as drinking water in the desert."

Stella laughed at the expression. "I guess so," she replied before turning back towards Mac and Adele. "Is Mac getting anywhere?"

Jo shook her head. "She's not admitting to anything, but," she trailed off, her dark eyes narrowing in the scene before her.

Stella leaned in, watching her closely. "But what?"

"She's hiding something. See how she keeps shifting her weight? It because she's uncomfortable. Her fingers drum on the table whenever Mac asks a question. Her eyes dart slightly to the left before she answers. Her chest rises whenever the room is silent," she pointed out. "She knows more than she's letting on."

"You think maybe she's involved?"

"I don't think so," Jo answered honestly. "She still seems scared about something, almost as if she knows why someone is trying to kill her."

Stella crossed her arms, impressed. "Wow. You saw all that from just those little movements."

Jo shrugged. "It's all about the subtle things. Small gestures that people make can tell you a lot about them," she paused, glancing in Stella's direction. "Kind of like Mac."

That got her attention.

Jo smiled as she knew Stella was watching. "It's like," she started, playing innocent. "On a normal day, Mac is focused, hard-working, sometimes misinterpreted as incredibly stoic. He's definitely got a sense of humor," she paused. "But today was different."

Stella, whether she intended to be or not, appeared relatively immersed in Jo's analysis. "How?"

Jo met her gaze. "For the first time since I've met him, Mac seemed genuinely happy," she told her with a smile. "And not, 'Oh, we just caught a serial killer happy'. I mean, that happy that makes you smile even when it's inappropriate, or laugh at things that aren't funny." Jo turned back to the mirror, just in time to watch Mac leave the interrogation room. "I guess you could say he seems to be in some sort of," she paused, thinking of a good word. "Bliss."

She looked back towards Stella, catching the smile and slight blushing.

Jo shrugged, again playing innocent. "No idea why though."

Stella laughed, starting to reply before the door opened and Mac walked in. He started to speak but noticed the expression on both women's faces. "I see you too met."

The women shared a glance, both smiling.

"We did," Stella said. "We also saw how your target didn't seem to know why someone is trying to kill her," she said, returning the topic of conversation to the case.

Mac nodded. "I don't know though, I think there's more."

"I think so too," Jo agreed.

"Well, until she's willing to talk, I'm having a uniform to take her back home."

Stella crossed her arms. "Maybe she'll come around."

**,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,**

"Aha."

Danny and Hawkes looked up from their spots in the lab at Lindsay who had just leaned up from her place at the comparison microscope.

"Tell me you got something good Montana," Danny encouraged.

As she always did, Lindsay smiled proudly. "I do. The bullets match the ones from the first shooting."

"So we know it's the same shooter," Hawkes said, his hands moving in front of him.

Danny nodded, crossing his arms as he rocked on his feet. "So at least we know we're only chasing one psycho shooter."

Lindsay shook her head at Danny. "Yeah, except the problem is we have all this evidence that does nothing to help figure out who's behind all of this."

"Only one lead left at this point," Danny stated.

Hawkes nodded in agreement. "Let's just hope she's knows something we don't."

**,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,**

Flack watched as Adele was led from the interrogation room by a uniformed officer.

He stood from his desk, weaving through the array of desks and detectives alike.

"You taking her home," he asked the officer, his name reading 'Johnson'.

The young man nodded. "Detective Taylor asked me to take her home and wait until the officer assigned to watch the apartment got there."

Flack nodded. "I'll take her. I was on my way home anyway." When he saw Johnson hesitate, he spoke again. "I'll let Mac know."

The man seemed to accept it, nodding to Flack and walking away.

Flack, after watching him go, looked down at Adele as she ran a hand over her face. "You okay?"

She nodded, clasping her hands together. "Fine, I guess. Didn't plan on being here all day."

Flack nodded in understanding.

It was nearing seven o'clock in the evening. Between the multiple questionings and simple periods of waiting around, he knew she'd been there all day, probably leading to some degree of annoyance from her.

"I understand. We're just trying to figure out what's…"

"Going on," she interrupted. "I know."

So she was annoyed.

"Look," she started. "Just like I told everyone else, I don't know why someone is supposedly trying to kill me."

"Not supposedly Adele. They're trying to kill you and maybe they won't stop until they succeed."

The emotion in his own voice surprised him, and he quickly tried to play it off, standing up straighter. "Look, I'm not trying to scare you or anything. But you gotta be realistic here. Someone obviously has got something against you."

"And you think I'm lying," she said in attempt to appear solely on the defense, though he could see through her attempt.

"I think there's something you're not telling me." His eyes held strong against her weakening gaze.

She let out a breath and dropped her hands to her side. "I make desserts for a living," she started. "I don't rob banks and sell drugs. I've never even gotten a parking ticket. I'm telling you, if someone's trying to kill me, I have no idea why."

Flack watched as her eyes seemed to show her mind instructing the rest of her body to display a sense of sureness and confidence in what she was saying. Yet there was this lingering twinkle in the deep pools of hazel that made him think otherwise. He didn't know if he was imagining it and it was just some figment of his imagination. But something inside of him told him that it was real.

"Can you just take me home please?"

Flack paused, wanting to press the issue further but instead held his tongue.

"Sure," he said in a quiet tone.

He watched as Adele seemed to let out a breath before following him out of the precinct.

The two entered his car and Flack pulled into the late evening traffic, already annoyed with the slow moving vehicles in front of him.

Days like these made rush hour seem to last hours into the night, a grand affair of honking horns, screamed insults, and stop and go maneuvers.

Their trip would normally only last for 15 minutes or so but Flack predicted that that was not the case on that particular evening.

The forced silence between the two began to make him uncomfortable and he stole a glance in her direction.

She sat, starting out the window as she bit on her lip.

"You know you do that a lot."

Adele turned to look at him. "Do what a lot?"

"Bite your lip."

Her small chuckle seemed to clear out some of the uncomfortable air in the car and he couldn't help the smile on his face. "You sound like my grandmother."

"I do?"

She nodded. "You better stop that Adele. One day, your lip is going to fall off!"

He would have laughed at the statement but the accent she produced caught him off guard. "Where is she from?"

"Germany."

Flack nodded, making a left. "You ever been?"

Adele nodded. "Lived there for about 6 years."

"No accent though?"

She shook her head. "Born there. Moved here when I was three. Moved back when I was 12. I came to New York after I graduated."

"So I take that you speak German," he asked with a grin as he stopped at a red light.

"_Die Leute fragen immer Sie etwas zu sagen mit ihnen, dass Sie eine andere Sprache sprechen zu lernen. "_

Flack smiled in her direction. "Does that mean, you find me charming and think I have a great sense of humor?"

Adele raised her eyebrows at him with a wide smile. "Um, sure," she said, laughing.

Flack laughed with her, pushing on the gas as the light turned green.

"Well then thank you," he said, earning more laughs form the both of them.

One could say that was the reason they never saw the red truck coming.

* * *

><p><em>Anything you recognize doesn't belong to me.<em>

_I'm so sorry about taking so long for this. School is picking up so I don't have as much time to write. But trust me; I am not letting this go. I love all of the responses I've continued to get and am still in the process of replying to reviews so if I haven't gotten to you yet, I apologize dearly. _

_I hope everyone continues to read!_

_Thanks again!_

_**~Pecan Tweet.**_


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